


the nature of gifts

by nounderscore



Category: The Queen's Thief - Megan Whalen Turner
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2019-02-28 00:22:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13259697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nounderscore/pseuds/nounderscore
Summary: Eddis's second foray into matchmaking goes exceedingly better than the first.





	the nature of gifts

**Author's Note:**

> This work is unbeta'd. Takes place during the end of the Queen of Attolia.

Eddis considered Attolia over her cup of tea. While treaty negotiations progressed merrily along after a halting start, the marital arrangements between Eugenides and Attolia stalled. Their history complicated things, of course. Attolia had only secured her throne this long through cleverness and disinclination towards trust. She did not allow herself to believe that her future king loved her so much a severed hand would not sway him from it. For his part, Eugenides could not bear to have the truth of his feelings go unheard again, so he stayed stubbornly silent on the matter, maddeningly blithe on others.

Enter Eddis, expert matchmaker, Helen thought wryly. Well, why not? She had not learned to ride a horse the first time her father had lifted her on the saddle.

A blunt approach was best.

“I intended to depose you. You know this?” Attolia blinked once, then nodded. Of course she noticed when Eddis had gobbled up the grain market, when wood and iron were no longer freely available for trade with Attolian merchants. Maybe she knew of the few barons with ties to the Eddisian court that had warmly responded to inquiries from the messengers of the mountain queen.

“You’ve rarely strayed from your borders, but Attolia has not been a friend of Eddis in the past.” That would change now, Eddis hoped. Not just for her cousin’s sake, but for Helen’s own heart, which took to Irene more readily than she would have thought possible. There was a human being under the stone mask, a woman who understood the weight of the crown, the responsibility of doing what was best for a nation thousands strong.

“The instability that has kept Attolia from strengthening ties with her neighbors will soon pass,” Attolia said. “It is my earnest wish that the queen of Eddis can look to me and see a sister queen. A friend, where once she did not see one.”

Eddis smiled. “It was not my first plan,” she admitted. “A deposed monarch could lead to civil war. A neighboring country at war, even in the lowlands, would have created complications for Eddis.” And an opening for the Mede.

“So, of course, I asked my cousin who was the Thief of Eddis to privately tell the queen of Attolia to tread carefully when making any decisions that might affect my country,” she explained. “Or I would send him to kill you.” Attolia stiffened. Eddis saw Attolia’s mind comb over every prank Eugenides pulled in her castle, every note passed along with her breakfast, every trinket left on her bedside table. “It’s been, oh, more than two years ago now.” Before Eugenides lost his hand in the dungeons of Attolia.

Attolia coughed politely.

“I suppose I got the gist of it. None of them were quite to the point,” she lightly touched the rubies dangling from her ears, “but Eugenides made his purpose known.” Eddis shook her head.

“He never sent my message. Only his own.” Attolia stared. Cautiously, Eddis reached across the table and took her hand in hers.

“I gave him my orders, and I didn’t see Eugenides for weeks. It was of the utmost importance that Gen tell you my threat without alerting your barons, or it would further compromise your position and put into motion the civil war I wanted to avoid. I assumed- _wrongly_ -that he was patiently waiting for the perfect opportunity. Instead, one night I awoke to my Thief shaking on the side of my bed and begging me to rescind my command, the only time he has ever done so.” She’d gathered him up in her arms and had to ask him three times to tell her what the hell happened.

“I love her.”

“Who?”

Gen wouldn’t stop shaking. “I love her. I can’t-don’t ask me to hurt her. Please.”

Helen had not needed to ask for any further clarification. She bundled her Thief up in her comforter and the next day asked the priests to find a suitable match for him to marry. Gen might as well have confessed to loving a statue, for all of the love the queen of Attolia would bear him in return. It was imperative that Helen take steps to stomp out the notion from his mind.

The matchmaker of Eddis’s first failure.

“Irene,” Helen said gently. “All of those notes, the things he left behind? None of them were threats. They were tokens from a lovesick, young man. All he has ever wanted was your attention. All he has he ever wanted was to tell you that he loves you.” What might have been if she had taken Gen’s feelings more seriously at the time? Perhaps she could have dispatched him as a diplomat to Attolia’s court, let him openly declare his intentions. For all the intrigue that abounded in Attolia, Eddis has never lost any representatives to political murder within the capital. Maybe Gen would have found a way to get all he wanted without losing his hand.

Attolia spoke after a long moment.

“I have prided myself on knowing the nature of gifts. Are these pearls a bribe, this gold a threat? Which doors does the gifter hope to grease open?” Irene looked down at Eddis’s hand on hers. She curled her fingers and returned the embrace. “He complimented the pastries from my kitchens. He told me to fix the tiles on the western roof. He said that if I had any pride in my library I would send for the latest scrolls from Eddisian poets.” Yes, she could see the youthful infatuation now, but back then Attolia had read in between the lines: the Thief could poison her food, maneuver across her rooftops to his heart’s content, and he mocked her with the hated stereotype of the barbarian Attolian, uncultured and illiterate.

“Speak with him,” Helen urged. “Not simply about the weather or the architecture of the palace, but speak with him about anything. Ask him about how jealous he is of me that I’m the better archer.” A beam in the ceiling creaked indignantly. “Ask him about the scroll he’s copying. Ask him for his opinion on Attolian olives. Let, let him ask you things, and when you want to answer him, do so.” Eddis looked skyward for a moment, and let out a breath. “Ask him to make you happy, and he will. I ask, not as a queen, but as his cousin who loves him, that you return the favor. This doesn’t have to be another sacrifice you make for your country, Irene. Marrying Eugenides will be one of the best decisions you ever make, but only if you open your heart to it.” She felt Irene’s hand shake, and she thought of Gen, so young and in love, telling her he couldn’t hurt the queen of Attolia, not even if the queen of Eddis asked him to.

“Thank you for your counsel, Helen,” Irene said. She squeezed Helen’s hand, then stood. She looked hopeful, Eddis thought. “I would like to speak with my husband to be now, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course.” Irene bowed ever so slightly, then left for Gen’s suite.

Eddis waited until the door closed before saying to the ceiling, “You can beat her back to your rooms if you leave now, you spying snake.”

Eugenides smiled down on his cousin. “I’m so pleased with how your conversation went I will allow Attolia to believe that nasty lie about you being better at archery,” he said magnanimously.

Eddis considered the logistics of throwing tea at the ceiling, then decided she would wait until later when Eugenides was firmly on the ground to pour it on his head.

“Quickly now. She might give you a kiss if you don’t make her want to throw something at you.”

Eugenides scrambled towards a little window only he could squeeze through. “I shall endeavor to make her amenable to the first suggestion,” he said before disappearing.

Eddis sighed. She was officially retired from matchmaking altogether.


End file.
